Every group is the victim of stereotyping,
and ABCDs and FOBs are no exception. Some of the more common stereotypes
about FOBs are that they tend to only socialize with other FOBs, prefer
to eat Indian food all the time and are generally diligent about visiting
their parents and extended family in India. They also often have Indian
accents that I can’t understand, wear white socks with dress shoes
and don’t use antiperspirant.
Of course, there are plenty of stereotypes about ABCDs too. They
are not expected to speak their mother tongue, always think their
parents "won’t understand, because they didn’t grow
up here," aren’t close to their extended family in India
and are not FOB-friendly. We are often also accused of being coconuts
(or Suzie-Q’s or Ho-Hos), brown on the outside and white on
the inside, and of not respecting our heritage. But most of us would
agree that being an ABCD isn’t so bad; it’s better than
being a FOB, right?
Now back to the bar. That night, this certain someone caught my glance,
and we started up a conversation. His name was Krishna*, and he’s
a FOB. Krishna and I hit it off and eventually settled into a long-distance
friendship. In my humble (and admittedly stereotypical) ABCD opinion,
Krishna is different. Krishna doesn’t conform to any of the
stereotypes. By most ABCD standards, he’s not your typical FOB.
We have the kind of relationship in which we can
talk about anything really. He has myriad interests, is intellectually
curious, and is a great phone person. That’s why we’re
friends. We talk about politics, world events and the people in our
lives. We both love to travel and learn new things. This summer, I
learned to scuba, and he learned to sail. But, we have differences
too. His parents live in Hyderabad and mine live in Chicago. He went
to college in India, and I went to school in Philly. I can vote, he
can’t.
Even though we talk about anything and everything, it wasn’t
until a year into our friendship that we actually talked about the
ABCD/FOB divide. And, we more or less stumbled upon it. He was telling
me about a group of FOBs at his work whom he used to hang out with.
Recently, they stopped inviting him out. He felt insulted and was
somewhat disenchanted about being excluded by "his people."
So, in an attempt to make him feel better, I told him I thought he
was different (as described above) and that it wasn’t surprising
to me that his FOB colleagues didn’t want to socialize with
him anymore. He wasn’t really like them and was really more
like me, an ABCD, which was why we got along so well. Or, so I thought.
For what seemed like an eternity there was dead air,
and then Krishna said, "That’s not true. I am a FOB."
And I immediately thought, "Why would anyone want to be a FOB?"
Doesn’t every FOB aspire to be confused (pun intended) for an
ABCD? Apparently not. I paused before I said something condescending.
And, that was when I realized what the difference between ABCDs and
FOBs is. We are confused, and we are always working through things
to give ourselves a clearer identity—to be more American or
to be more South Asian. We grew up bi-culturally and have always felt
and will continue to feel the need to balance the two worlds we live
in. FOBs have one identity: a South Asian one. Krishna didn’t
want to be an ABCD. In fact, I think Krishna was offended by what
I had thought to be a compliment. So, I apologized.
When I told him I was going to write this article, he wondered if
the topic wasn’t trite. Maybe it was to him, but it certainly
wasn’t to me. I learned a lot about him and myself from that
conversation. More importantly, he questioned the premise of the article
entirely, saying, "Why don’t you just write about why ABCDs
don’t get along with Mexican people?" At first I didn’t
understand, but then it became clear. He wanted to know why the ABCD/FOB
divide was an issue. "FOBs are not some archaic version of ABCDs,"
he pointed out, "We really are different." They share an
immigrant experience all their own. And, as Krishna further explained,
South Asian FOBs probably have more in common with Chinese FOBs than
they do with ABCDs (whether or not they know it). Though FOBs may
eventually integrate into American culture, they will always remain
first-generation Americans. And, ABCDs never will be.
That somewhat obvious, but still enlightening point, made my head
reel. Do I have more in common with my Jewish-American neighbor than
I do with Krishna? Is that good? Is that bad? Does that mean that
I’m not Indian enough?
It doesn’t mean any of those things, I decided. FOBs have a
different experience in this country, because they are immigrants.
When I think about my parents, it all makes sense. They were immigrants
and always will be. They still prefer to socialize with other South
Asians and eat Indian food all the time, but they’ve also adopted
the trappings of American life. However, thirty-some years after my
parents came here, my father still says he feels like a second-class
citizen (even though he probably votes more often than the average
non-naturalized American). I might look like him, but I certainly
don’t feel the same way. I will never have the same ties to
India that he does. And, he will never have the same ties to this
country that I do. That’s the bottom line.
When I surveyed my ABCD and FOB friends on the divide, each described
the other group as elitist and exclusive. It doesn’t have to
be that way. We have to get to know each other like we would any other
group of people. Just because we come from the same part of the world
doesn’t mean we are the same. Nonetheless, sometimes when I
hang out with my FOB friends, I feel insecure about my South Asian-ness.
And, I admit that sometimes I want to assert my ABCD "I’m
American" sense of superiority. I certainly wouldn’t do
that with any other group of people, but sometimes I find myself doing
it with the FOBs.
Soon after this conversation with Krishna, I decided to test his
pearls of wisdom. I was at a good friend’s party over the weekend.
He too happens to be a FOB. As the party drew to a close, a core group
of his FOB friends (plus me) overstayed their welcome well into the
night. As the wine flowed, the conversation became animated, and the
jokes started being told in Hindi.
I’m a South Indian ABCD, so Hindi is generally beyond me. I
tried studying it once, and I’ve seen my share of Bollywood
films, but I still need subtitles. I was used to this turn of events
however. Usually, I just stay quiet and indulge my personal insecurities
about not understanding Hindi. But, this night was different. I decided
to assert myself and ask for a translation—after all, that is
what I would do if they were speaking German (or some other language
that I didn’t comprehend). And, I got one. So, I got to enjoy
the joke too.
After we went through this process a few times, one of the guys asked
me why I didn’t speak Hindi. I looked him square in the eye
and said, "Because I’m South Indian and American, I never
had a need to learn it." And, I said to myself, "And, I’m
ok with that."
FOBs and ABCDs can only mingle when they see each other for who they
are: people who share a heritage but not an experience. Don’t
presume that you are being judged, put your stereotypes aside, and
get to know each other as you would someone who doesn’t look
like you. In the end, my FOB friends add a dimension to my life like
no other. I’m grateful that they’re in my life and that
they’ve let me into theirs.
*Name has been changed.
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